Rob Hires the Forces of Evil
by bilaterus
Summary: After the 76th failed attempt to destroy Gumball, Rob decides to enlist outside help. Now, if he can only find someone suitable… Idea inspired by PaperMedicFoxtrot.
1. Chapter 1

"And what methods will you employ for the role?" Rob asked from behind his desk, not looking up from the rèsumè he was reading. His British voice already sounded weary from what had been a long and fruitless morning of interviewing.

His current interviewee adjusted his mask, a white one with concentric circles on the cheeks. "You see," he murmured ominously, "I want to play a _game_ with him…"

Rob exhaled disappointedly. "I thought so. See, mister, er, Jigsaw, I'm looking for someone who will _destroy_ Gumball. He's a kid. He'd enjoy playing games."

"But you don't understand-"

"Thank you for your interest in the role," Rob droned, gesturing to the door.

Jigsaw stood up sharply, fuming, but Rob gave no reaction except to flick over to the next in the stack of the rèsumès. The villain huffed and stormed out, muttering about how he would get revenge.

As the man left, Rob sighed and rubbed his temple in agitation. He caught a glimpse of the variety of characters waiting in the corridor as the door creaked closed behind the latest disappointing candidate. Would any of the remaining mercenaries be suitable? Sure, he had interviewed several promising candidates already, and some of them would have been very capable of DESTROYING GUMBALL WATTERSON ONCE AND FOR ALL!, but they were all missing something else. Either their interpersonal skills were lacking, or their references were poor, or they were Eldritch Horrors from the realm of mortal nightmares, or they had bad body odour. Was this what interviews were like for adults too?

In any case, he wouldn't give up or settle. He was Dr. Wrecker, and for his partner in crime, nothing short of perfection would do.

* * *

 **Rob hires the Forces of Evil**

* * *

The next candidate teleported into the room instead of using the door. He was a golden triangle with a cane and top hat, and he had - ooh - just one gleeful eye. Plus points for the cyclops factor. Or was that positive discrimination?

"Well well well well well!" Bill Cipher boomed, chuckling, and as he did, the entire room tilted erratically, rattling some pens off the desk. "How do you do, Glitcher?"

"Not so bad," Rob replied, though he wasn't hot on the nickname. "I see you have power over space and time?"

Another room-tilting chuckle. If he did give this Bill guy the job, he would have to talk to him about those. "Haha, well, full disclosure, Glitcher, I only have power over the dreamworld and the mindscape. But hey, everyone needs sleep, right?

"And I don't need money, either, Glitcher. All I need is the use of your body for just a liiiittle-"

"Oh, what?! You want my body?!" Rob exclaimed, throwing his arms up defensively. "You know I'm underage, right?"

"No no, I just need to possess you-"

"Dude, still! That's just sick!"

A bead of sweat formed on Cipher's brow. "Glitcher, you're misunderstanding, I've done these deals with tons of kids before and-"

"Get out! OUT!"

Rob jolted awake, a piece of paper sliding off his face as he came back to his senses. Yes, he had been asleep, but the interview had been real, in the end.

Some words echoed in his head, in Bill's voice, which he wasn't sure he had actually heard or not before awakening. "Just remember, I'll be watching youuu…"

What a creep. Was it possible to get a restraining order against supernatural beings?

* * *

The next interviewee was huge. He squeezed his hulking, purple frame through the doorway, his gauntletted hand crushing the door where he had grasped it. Several embedded stones glowed entrancingly in the golden gauntlet.

"I am Thanos," he boomed. "With a single snap of my fingers, I can erase the one you call Gumball from existence."

"G-Great!" Rob said excitedly. To think, his victory was so close… No. Best not get ahead of himself. He cleared his throat and continued. "Do it. And the $20 will be yours."

Thanos blinked as Rob's hand reached into the pocket where he kept the assortment of coins. "$20?"

"Yes," Rob said slowly. "That was the amount I stated in the ad. Is there a problem?"

Thanos looked up solemnly. "I strive for balance. This… will not balance. my bank account, I mean."

Rob stopped fishing around in his pocket. "What?"

"I need at least three thousand dollars for my services," he declared. "Cash."

"Where am I going to get $3000 cash?" Rob said angrily. "I'm a teenager living off the grid who still has to finance his own schemes! Besides, all you have to do is snap your fingers! This is ridiculous!"

"It's a matter of principle," he stated, rising from his seat. "I see this job is then of no use to me. Farewell."

"Void dammit!" Rob pounded the desk with two frustrated fists. Luckily, the rented desk was undamaged.

* * *

"Sure, The Sith can help you," the old emperor drawled, with a sly grin. "All we need is 2 billion dollars' worth of funding in untraceable gold to build another Death Star…"

Rob was speechless for a full 30 seconds. His eyelid twitched. Emperor Palpatine's grin fell slightly as he slowly understood this wasn't the done deal he initially thought it was.

"I mean, we can make do with just half of it upfront, if that is more suitable for your-"

"YOU IDIOT!" Rob screamed. Palpatine raised his arms defensively as Rob whacked the shrivelled man with a stack of papers, Rob's fury exacerbating his glitchy movement. "Didn't- WHACK- you- WHACK- read- WHACK-the- WHACK- ad?!"

Rob chased him out of the room and the wrinkled old Sith Emperor fled rapidly down the corridor. Eventually he got out of arm's reach, then out of sight as Rob slowed. The young teen let out a primal scream and hurled the papers on the floor. Then, he became painfully aware of his own heavy breathing as he realised he had drawn the stares of everyone in the corridor who was still waiting for interview.

"Anyone else expecting more than $20 out of this job had better leave now," he said irately.

An old man who looked jaundiced muttered something about uncromulent humbugs and too shuffled out of the corridor.

* * *

"The name's Alex. Alex Stones."

Rob took a look at the next candidate, a white guy in maybe his twenties or thirties. His features looked clean and unassuming, but also familiar, as if Rob had seen his features on TV… The Allowed House! That show where inside the protagonist's home, anything goes.

Yeah, this fellow looked like he was from that show, but he was certainly something new. A real original character. He had a charismatic confidence which meant that Rob could already feel himself starting to like him.

"Yeah, I'll help you out," the guy smiled. "Destroying a kid, right? No problem, sounds interesting. Just give me the details and I'll get to work."

Rob found himself nodding approvingly. "No nonsense. I like it." He then took a quick look at the application letter Alex had sent. "I see you've got a lot of experience helping people. And you're happy to do it just as a-"

The young interviewer then looked up to notice that Alex had changed. Well, his expression hadn't, but his features were now… different? As if they'd been _drawn_ differently. His eyes were a little narrower, his hair suddenly parted the other way. It was too fast for Alex to have actually changed it himself.

The subject of Rob's scrutiny continued to grin as if nothing had changed. "A favour, yeah," Alex finished, his now differently-shaped eyes twinkling playfully.

Eh. Rob could live with a little glitchiness in appearance, given his own appearance wasn't entirely stable. Yeah, there was nothing wrong with that. Relative to the issues he'd seen today, a little image changing was nothing.

Then he blinked, and suddenly Alex was Asian.

"Erm!" Rob said suddenly, before biting his tongue. He gestured towards the man. "What's with the, er…?"

Puzzled, Alex looked down at his arms. He chuckled lightly, as if discovering he had a small stain on his shirt. "Oh, yeah, well, that happens from time to time. I'm still getting settled, you see."

He blinked, and then Rob blinked, and in that time, Alex's face had materialised an eyepatch.

Rob stared, mystified. Alex passed a finger over the patch with a curious amusement. "Hm, no, I'm sure these changes will revert. They're a bit out there, aren't they?"

Rob's eye narrowed, then, he blinked very deliberately. As promised, Alex reverted to his previous white two-eyed self, but now his features were coated in tv static, just like Rob's. Plus he had a hook hand.

"Ok, I think you need to be a bit more established first," Rob said flatly.

Alex frowned. Assumedly - it was now buried under an enormously thick black beard, which shook as he talked. "Alright, mate. Well, if you ever need anything else, you now have my number."

Rob closed his eye and didn't look up again until he heard the door handle click closed.

To be honest, he was looking forward to seeing what became of Alex (if he didn't end up as a pirate). He had real potential and a allure of mystery. But it would be a couple of years before he would be ready and Rob couldn't afford to wait that long. His search of the forces of evil would have to continue.

* * *

 **I have to say this is the fastest chapter of anything that I've written in a while. It's been terrific fun thus far. Thanks again to PaperMedicFoxtrot for the core idea and contributions.**

 **Alex there at the end is a reference to a new show that is being pitched by an internet acquaintance. I wish said buddy the best of luck.**

 **Feel free to suggest more interview candidates! Otherwise, I have quite a few more ideas, so watch this space!**


	2. Chapter 2

"No."

"Oh come on," Darwin pleaded, his eyes wide and endearing. "I'll work really hard!"

"To destroy your brother?"

"To help you," Darwin corrected. "We're buddies!"

It was ironically scary how Darwin had snuck in, as if he was a ninja. He would make a truly terrifying villain if cuteness could be weaponised.

"We're enemies," Rob said tersely, tucking some villain CV's into one of the desk's drawers. "Seriously, why are you here?"

Darwin sighed. "Ok, listen. Our family has been buying milk on a 12 month payment plan. We really need any money we can get."

Rob was unsure where to look. But he wasn't going to be guilted into this.

"Just… go," he said, staunchly. "It's not happening."

Eyes downcast and welling with tears, Darwin shuffled out.

 _Right_ , Rob fumed angrily, his eye reddening with reactive tears. _As soon as I'm done with Gumball, Darwin is next._

* * *

"Yesss, I'll help you with your anthropomorphic cat problem," Hannibal drawled. "I'm sure he will _go down_ nicely."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just to clarify, you don't mind what happens to the body, correct?" He flashed a veery suspicious, toothy smile.

"Are… are you going to eat Gumball?" Rob asked, fearing the answer.

"I'm looking forward to it. _Felino Azul_ , a dish I've yet to try. Perhaps paired with a nice chianti?" His grin widened. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Listen, I'll give you ten bucks NOT to come anywhere near us," Rob said.

Hannibal scowled and left, while Rob made a mental note to ensure his address wasn't anywhere publicly accessible.

Man, there were some really disturbing villains out there.

* * *

"I would love to help you, boy," the woman drawled. She flicked her white fur scarf over her shoulder with a flourish.

"I've been looking for a lovely blue overcoat for ages. I've seen pictures of this annoying blue kitten and his beautiful, soft teal/navy fur. I must have it."

"Ok, Cruella," Rob said. "Good news: that's the second-most disturbing implication I've heard today. Bad news: I'm only looking for a standard destroying. It's a no from me."

Cruella huffed angrily but said nothing, picking up her little handbag and exiting the room, while Rob tried not to think about wearing a Gumball-Skin scarf.

* * *

"So, Larry, why are you interested in this job?" the glitch-riddled cyclops asked.

Larry straightened his hat, chuckling politely. "Well, of course, for the simple reason that I do all the menial odd jobs around here. Why go external when you can go local, right?"

"Ok, first of all, destroying Gumball Watterson and everything he loves is not a _menial odd job_ ," Rob seethed, before taking a breath to compose himself. "Second, I'm not sure if you're evil enough to go through with this."

Larry raised an eyebrow and grinned smugly. "Oh yeah?" he wrote something on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. "Here's how much I charge for maths tuition."

Rob picked up the piece of paper tentatively, then peered at the number on it. Then almost fell out of his chair. "Holy Polygon that's a lot of money."

Coughing as he stood again and composed himself, Rob "Listen, Larry, I think I'm going to go for someone a little more conventionally evil. But hey, I'll call you if I need any help with maths."

Then he looked down at the figure again, the number that was still far too long. "Or not."

* * *

" _NO_."

"Oh, come on, sen-yór," the latest fishy candidate pleaded. "I may not haff any credentials, but I can eliminate zis 'Gumball Watterson' easily."

Rob sighed and rubbed his forehead sorely. "Darwin, your fake mustache is slipping off."

"Oh!" The fish's incredibly poor and mixed-up fake accent slipped for his exclamation, and he whipped a fin to his upper lip to fix the single element of his disguise. "I mean, och, I don't know who zis 'Darwin Watterson' person is."

"I didn't say 'Watterson.'"

"Yesh you did."

"I WILL…" Rob gritted his teeth and, with great restraint, unclenched his instinctively formed fist, before continuing slowly. "I will… give you $5 if you just go."

"No no no no, mon-sword," Darwin said, shaking his head. "I'd feel bad just taking your money! Let me kill my broth- my target a little bit, at least?"

"Ok, ok, you know what, come back in a month," Rob suggested as a compromise, hoping the bright-eyed helpful would forget by then, or that he could fill the position by then, or he could skip town and change his name. "And dude, it's 'monsieur', can you work on a single accent, please?."

"We can't afford language tapes," Darwin said, crestfallen.

"Get out of here!" Rob shouted reactively, a tear unintentionally welling up in his eye again despite himself.

God, he hated the Wattersons.

* * *

The final applicant of the day heaved his bulky frame through the door. The strong smell of deodorant hit Rob's nostrils, followed by a slight hint of sweat that the deodorant failed to mask. The man must have been in his thirties, and he had stubbly facial hair that looked more like a consequence of laziness than design choice.

But hey, Rob wasn't going to judge on appearances.

"So, I see you go by… 'TimmSunBetweenFriends'," Rob said, carefully reading the given username in the man's application. The name was a reference to the main characters Sun and Timmy from the show 'Sun vs the Porsches of Evil. "I guess you don't want those two together," he laughed, in an attempt to be informal.

Though the man shifted a bit uneasily in his seat. "Yeah, that's what the username means. Just call me Bob."

Rob decided to change the subject. "Alright, Bob. So, what's your plan for helping me destroy Gumball?"

"Ok, here's the plan," Bob said, leaning forward intently. "I publish a ton of badly written stories about Gumball's life, besmirching his name and reputation. When he eventually finds out, he'll kill himself! I call it: _enemyfiction._ "

Rob just covered his eye with both hands. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "I get the weirdest freaking candidates."

"I think I'll write a story where Penny cheats on Gumball. Or would Gumball cheating on Penny work better?" the man pondered, having not caught Rob's comments.

"What on earth makes you think it'll have such an impact?"

Bob let out a small chuckle. "I see you aren't acquainted with my work. Listen, I am an unparalleled _genius_. I can inspire any feeling in my readers that I so choose, what with my masterful craftsmanship with… words."

"Uh huh."

"Oh, and afterwards I can write a story about Gumball's suicide!" The man said excitedly.

"And how does _that_ help?" Rob asked irately.

Bob shrugged as he tap-typed the idea down on his iPad. "It should get me a review or two."

"Well thank you, Bob, but I don't need anyone writing stories. Already got a guy for that."

"How dare you reject my obvious brilliance!" Bob seethed, as he suddenly stood and rose to full height. He turned haughtily and stormed away, but before leaving, pointed a threatening finger at the young employer. "Just for this, I'm going to… to…!"

Rob braced. Was it going to be physical threat? He suddenly realised he hadn't considered escape routes or his own safety during the hiring process. Still he hoped he could outrun Bob, if it came to it. Rob braced for the worst.

"I'll write a fic shipping you and Gumball!"

"Oh, no no no no no," Rob recoiled in horror.

"Yeah, yeah," Bob nodded as the ideas forming in his head. The deranged look in the guy's eyes showed Rob that he was serious. "Here's the scene: you're about to finish him off when you catch a glimpse of his eyes, that have a shine you never noticed before, and you notice his cute little whiskers, and you find yourself-"

"Enough!" Rob shouted desperately. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about the figurative gun Bob was holding to his head. He only had one option.

"Fine. I'll give you $5 if you don't write your… story."

Bob's expression instantly changed. "Oh, ok, sure."

Rob fished the remainder of his budget out of his pocket and dropped it, scowling, into Bob's hand.

He stared at it for a second, as if he'd never seen money before. "Wow, this is the first time I've been paid for my writing," he said.

"It's to stop you from writing."

"Money's money."

God, he hated writers.

* * *

 **Imagine if Rob found out GumRob was already a thing.**

 **Until next time!**


End file.
